I don't think I have ever heard the word "change" as often as I have in the last few weeks. Iowa votes one way and everyone says we are in for a change. But then there is New Hampshire and everyone is asking what changed. There are funny things afoot here.
I have often talked about change on this blog and how it is one of the scariest things for most churches and those in church ministry. For example, I was reading another blog today and they were talking about change and why it is so hard for most churches, no matter what the style of worship or the venue might be. The blogger said that there are two reasons why churches fight change: "The first stems from the mistaken idea that change in the church is wrong by principle. The second stems from a simple lack of practical knowledge as to how to positively introduce change without compromise." It seems like I hear variations on these themse often, especially when the discussion leads to the emergent church. Comments like: "Well, I think change is good, but let's not be too hasty." Or, "I like emergent ideas, but I am worried that we might begin to water down the gospel." All of this is about fear--of the unknown, of what God might do, or worse, what the people might think.
I have long said that change is one of the scariest things for me personally, but that I also thrive on it. My move here and our new life, which is about to begin its third year, was one such important change that would allow me to open doors to a new world. Granted, there have been times when I thought I would bore a hole in the doors that were shut to my old life, but in the end I still know the "change of life" was right. But to say that it was easy is an impossibility, even two years after the fact. Last week was the second anniversary of my resignation from the university (and also, being offered my current ministry position).
I have been dealing a lot with issues of control lately. Last week, I was reminded of John 3:30: "He must increase, but I must decrease." I have often thought about these profound words from John the Baptist concerning the ministry of Jesus. Imagine, a man who had an amazing ability to communicate to his generation, a prophetic voice to which many listened. He had a large following. And, yet, when asked about Jesus, John’s response: “He must increase, but I must decrease.” One of the shortest verses in the Scriptures, yet it sums up my deepest yearning. I want to strip away all that is me and be only Him. And John was willing to do this.
How often do we get involved in doing great things—for the church, for the community, for the Lord—only to realize that we were doing these things for our own purposes or because this is what we always do? John the Baptist was a messenger sent from God to prepare the way for Christ, and this was no unimportant calling. John knew the greater calling was to lead people to Christ, even though this meant that he would have to surrender his following, his glory to Christ.
Today, we are called to surrender our hopes and glories into the will of the One who called us out of darkness into His marvelous light. When we begin to follow wholly after Him, people no longer see us, but they see Him.
2 comments:
Curious connection you make between the church and politics.
I fear this presidential election will, like so many, be about who or what a candidate is or isn't and not so much about platform or conviction. He or she may well be elected because of their gender or race or, in the end, because of what they are not.
This superficiality disguised as a fight for equality (or racism, depending on which side of the coin you prefer) is very similar to some of the ubiquitous attitudes within the well established church. “We should sing hymns because they are hymns” (or some less than creative variation of the same argument). “We should replace the old pulpit” or “abdicate the midweek service because it is time for a change.” Everyone feels marginalized. But, no matter how the face/gender/race changes (or doesn't change), we end up with the same old problems because change for change (no matter how noble) and standing for standing does little more than add fuel to the already white hot fire of institutional irrelevance. At least that has been my humble experience.
Case and point: Willow Creek, a church who has connected thousands and thousands of people with Jesus, whose resources and training have helped thousands of other churches become more effective in fulfilling Christ’s mission, who have planted churches all over the world… this church looked at their primary mission statement and asked, “are we reaching people for Christ?” “Absolutely.” “Making followers of Jesus Christ?” “Eh, okay.” “Fully devoted followers?” “Not so much.” “Time we should address this, make some adjustments.” I wish EVERY church in America would be so honest, careful and wise. Yet, I have now had three conversations and read two articles with/by people essentially making a, “see, I told you so,” argument concerning the Willow Creek internal study. They actually seem to think the results of the study serve as valid endorsement of their own agenda of complacency. They will point fingers but refuse to take a hard look at their own effectiveness. Maybe it’s merely that one without any clear mission never has to measure up. “Never mind what Jesus said, we know what we are about.” Individuals and organizations that will reach few or none for Christ this year will deride Willow Creek as fraudulent. Who’s the bigger fraud—the one who shoots and misses the bulls-eye or the one who boasts claim to the prize but never pulls back the bow?
There are different kinds of change. I want to vote for the right one.
I get the impression that you love Jesus. The rest is gravy.
Post a Comment